Moments Pass By, Oh So Slowly
(Part 2 of 3)
So. That mini adventure was a good fortnight or so ago. The weeks slid by one by one before and after it, with the only real discernable events being the revelation of my A-level results. They weren't quite what I hoped for, and the university I had applied to told me there was 'no way' I was getting on the course. Shit. I decided, after a week of deliberation, that my only real option was to return to college for another whole year and see if I could improve and move up to a degree the next year instead.
Applications were sent, meetings were had, and eventually I was getting ready to start. Suddenly a letter landed on the doormat (well, as sudden as letters do, it probably came at about half seven, but it was only noticed at nine or so, and it had taken about 48 hours to get here, but that's not the point, okay). Upon opening it, I discovered inside a selection of leaflets and letters explaining when and where the uni year started. Fearing some kind of sick joke by a demented secretary whose only secret pleasure was the taunting of rejected and dejected students with teaser letters to rub in their visage the prospect of what they could have become, only to snatch it away and leave them to another year of college drudgery, or in fact make the student themselves crush their own dreams with the knowledge they were a failure, which is probably worse, I sent an enquiry to the uni itself. It seems the secretary must have been locked in the stationary cupboard that day, it seems that the fickle admissions board had changed its collective mind, and I was actually going to uni after all. The college got told to fuck off, and I prepared for a proper year.
Enrolment came and went, just this last Monday. Almost the first person I bumped into was someone I knew previously who I hoped would be there, which was nice, and it seems a fair few acquaintances were doing courses there. The enrolment itself was just an enrolment, nothing special or interesting. I prepared to return on Friday for a brief introduction before acquiring the required cards and returning home. But wait, I hear you gasp! Surely Fridays are for drunken larks with your cohorts! Yes, they are. Hey, I was only going to be sitting in a classroom for a couple of hours in the morning, right?
So. That mini adventure was a good fortnight or so ago. The weeks slid by one by one before and after it, with the only real discernable events being the revelation of my A-level results. They weren't quite what I hoped for, and the university I had applied to told me there was 'no way' I was getting on the course. Shit. I decided, after a week of deliberation, that my only real option was to return to college for another whole year and see if I could improve and move up to a degree the next year instead.
Applications were sent, meetings were had, and eventually I was getting ready to start. Suddenly a letter landed on the doormat (well, as sudden as letters do, it probably came at about half seven, but it was only noticed at nine or so, and it had taken about 48 hours to get here, but that's not the point, okay). Upon opening it, I discovered inside a selection of leaflets and letters explaining when and where the uni year started. Fearing some kind of sick joke by a demented secretary whose only secret pleasure was the taunting of rejected and dejected students with teaser letters to rub in their visage the prospect of what they could have become, only to snatch it away and leave them to another year of college drudgery, or in fact make the student themselves crush their own dreams with the knowledge they were a failure, which is probably worse, I sent an enquiry to the uni itself. It seems the secretary must have been locked in the stationary cupboard that day, it seems that the fickle admissions board had changed its collective mind, and I was actually going to uni after all. The college got told to fuck off, and I prepared for a proper year.
Enrolment came and went, just this last Monday. Almost the first person I bumped into was someone I knew previously who I hoped would be there, which was nice, and it seems a fair few acquaintances were doing courses there. The enrolment itself was just an enrolment, nothing special or interesting. I prepared to return on Friday for a brief introduction before acquiring the required cards and returning home. But wait, I hear you gasp! Surely Fridays are for drunken larks with your cohorts! Yes, they are. Hey, I was only going to be sitting in a classroom for a couple of hours in the morning, right?
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